Unfulfilled
by Martienne
Summary: York enjoys having Tex share his bed. But she just doesn't fill the role that he wishes she would. Originally written for Taming the Muse on LJ.


_Author's notes may be found on my journal at RedvsBlue .com/Martienne_

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><p>Sunrise, and the room was just being touched with the first fingers of illumination, drawing long shadows on the walls, shining salmon and magenta beams through the tops of the window panes. He took a long breath as he awoke, and glanced beside him to see if she was still there. She was an early riser and sometimes slipped away like a shadow of the night itself before he had awoken, clipping on her jet armor in silence, without so much as a kiss to his cheek before her exit, leaving him to wake to a lonely quiet room—no Tex there on those days to slide up next to and caress on those mornings, no way for him to run his fingers over her pale flesh to raise goosebumps and make her sigh. She didn't like being so vulnerable with him, but she wouldn't admit that's what it was, either.<p>

But today, by whatever blessing of fate, she was still asleep, and he turned on his side to watch her for a bit before he would touch her. He sometimes wondered what it was that drew him to doing this with her, when he knew she wanted nothing that resembled commitment or love from him. Such a contrast to the last woman he had been with.

If Tex was the duskiness of twilight, Carolina had been the shimmer of midday sunlight. He recalled her smile whenever she saw him—her eyes shining, coral lips turned up sweetly at the corners, her golden blonde hair that she would reach up and sweep off of her forehead when he leaned in to capture her mouth with his. They had been planning a future together, when the war was over, when Freelancer would be dissolved—when such a thing as a future would become conceivable and desirable. He loved to remember her that way, the way she was before her AI implantations had taken place. She had changed so much then, except he could tell it was still her underneath, but it was as though her light was being shrouded, clouded over like a fog that dulled her brightness and stifled her image, the crisp edges that outlined who she was and what she stood for becoming fuzzy and indistinct.

And mornings with her, before, were sweet like spring, when she would snuggle up to him and breathe in his ear. "Good morning, love," she would whisper, and brush his lobe with her lips as he slowly stretched and awakened, feeling so comforted with his life's companion by his side. She smelled good, and he would turn his face and snuggle into her hair, turning to put his arm around her, and they would just lie together and talk as they waited for the chiming of the alarm to set them out on their day.

"Hey," Tex's voice burst though, interrupting his reverie; he blinked back the images and impression of the past and focused his gaze on her. The arching of her eyebrow made it clear that she didn't care for awakening to his steady stare, and he smiled apologetically.

She smirked back and scooted herself back on the pillow a bit to sit up slightly. "What are you looking at?"

She didn't want to hear about his reminiscing. She called him soft when he got to doing that. But he knew what she did like. He pulled himself up close to her and skimmed his hand over her breasts. "Thinking about how hot you were last night." He chose that word deliberately; she never wanted to hear him talk about her beauty or the femininity of her curves. That sort of talk was too delicate, too close to resembling something affectionate instead of something merely lustful.

She didn't want that from him. If she would go to anyone for those words…it wouldn't be York.

Her smirk broadened into a smile, the smile of a woman who knows she holds all the power over her lover. "And why are you telling me this now?" she purred.

A power play, that's what it was. If he wanted more from her, he would have to prove he deserved it, even though she wanted it, too. In fact, she wanted it more than he did. He just wanted the cuddling that would come afterward, but he always had to work for it.

He bent his head to nibble at her neck. "Because you're just as hot right now," he replied, throwing himself into the role he had to assume to get her attention.

"Mmm," she said, taking his hand and placing it more firmly on her breast. "What if we run out of time?"

"I'll always have time for this." He moved his nibbling to her jaw line, lapping below her ear and punctuating his words with a nip to her earlobe.

That was enough to satisfy her, apparently. Her lips curved with that sensual smile, the knowledge she had once again won their power play as she reached to switch off the alarm.

But afterward he was left lying alone, grasping out for her belatedly as her form moved away from him to strap on her armor. She gave him a lingering look over her shoulder, condescending and cool. "You're doing that thing again, York," she chided him. "I'm not here for you to use as a pillow. Snap out of it."

He just shook his head a little, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for his drawers. "I don't expect you to understand what I get out of it. I'd just like it if you'd humor me now and again."

Her expression shifted, almost sneering as she narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "I understand, asshole. I just said that's not what I'm here for."

He paused and his look showed his mild surprise. "I didn't mean—"

The slamming of the door behind her left him without a further reason to speak.


End file.
